Man from U.N.C.L.E. Section VII

Prompt: Ritual

As they watched, the sun rose behind the Sun Stone, the ancient entrance to the Stone Circle, rays of sunlight channelled into the center of the monument.

A half-dozen white-robed figures appeared, walking from between the sarsen and bluestone archway. One of them was limping, presumably it was Davies.

Their ritual began and they all raised their hands in supplication as the light streamed onto them.  Chanting in the unfamiliar language, it was obvious they were calling on some unseen force or what they believed to be a Celtic god or goddess perhaps.

Mark, Napoleon, Illya and the others watched, albeit nervously, as April and Ellery headed towards the Neolithic site. Once arriving the two women surveyed the bodies that were still arranged as they had been.

There was no new corpse that they could see. Perhaps the lack of availability of live victims within the sphere of Stonehenge’s influence had indeed interrupted these grisly rituals.

As to whether that was a good thing remained to be seen.

There was a sudden low hum that filled the air, and as it increased in volume everyone began to feel a tingling sensation on their skin.  It was as if they were covered with thousands of crawling ants.

“Run!” Napoleon shouted,”Get away from the stones!”

They took off, heading off in the distance to the cars used by Kit and the others. Parked far enough away; they seemed like a safe refuge from this bizarre situation...that was if the engines worked. At least the tingling finally stopped as they reached their destination.

The Prompt –

To the casual observer it could easily seem as though Napoleon Solo was quite a lackadaisical man. His relaxed posture, and apparent disinterest in what was being said, belied the sharp senses which were taking in everything.

Challenge: The Short Affair

Prompt Word 1 - Debate

-Prompt Word 2 – Museum

-Prompt Colour – Green

Author: mrua7
Title: “The disappearing Picasso”

Word Count: Approx. 600

Illya was in a debate with another museum patron over the style of Pablo Picasso.

He was not a favorite artist of the Russian, as Kuryakin preferred more traditional masters like Nikolay Koshelev or Vladimir Makovsky. He was especially fond of the landscapes of Ivan Aivazovsky.

Unfortunately the person with whom he spoke of those artists was unfamiliar with them. Given they were within the purview of the Communist party, they were rarely viewed by outsiders especially since the start of the Cold War.

Napoleon was admiring another abstract painting by Picasso when he noticed something strange; the green paint in “Reading at a Table” was beginning to run.

“Illya?” He called to his partner.”I think you need to look at this.

“Please Napoleon, must I? I do not care for Picasso.”

“Put your preferences aside and come look at this now.” Solo emphasized his request though gritted teeth and by pointing at the floor.

As soon as Illya saw the painting, he put on his eyeglasses and took a closer look at the artwork.

“There’s a problem here as this obviously a fraud.”

“No kidding, Sherlock,” Solo quipped.

Napoleon gestured to a nearby guard, pointing out the painting to him. He held up his UNCLE ID card, just to drive home his point.

The guard immediately spoke into a walkie-talkie and minutes later the museum director arrived with several more members of security.

The man had a look of panic in his eyes as he examined the painting as well as the other paintings in the wing. Thankfully the others seemed fine, though they’d have to be examined carefully to make sure they weren’t forgeries.

He turned to Solo, who introduced himself and Illya; he again presented his identification.

The director was obviously shaken as he spoke,“We have security cameras posted in each wing, so the last seventy-two hours will be available, that’s if this theft happened within that time frame. Would you and your partner care to join me and look at the tapes?”

“No sir. Unless we’ve been assigned to investigate this situation, we’ll have to decline. Though here is my card. You can contact my organization if in the event you’re unable to solve this theft.”

“I understand Mister Solo, Mister Kuryakin. Thank you for calling this situation to our attention.”

“I am sure anyone else eventually observing the painting would have seen the problem and reported it,”Illya said.” It would not take any special skills to see paint running on a canvas supposedly painted in 1934.”

Solo and Kuryakin said their goodbyes and left the museum.

“I have a feeling we’re going to be pulled in on this one,” Napoleon mumbled.

“Art theft is a complicated business, especially when insurance companies are involved,” Illya said. “I think the museum is perfectly capable of solving this mystery on its own, given they have security tapes.”

“I’d like to think that, but either way we’ll have to report this to Mister Waverly.”

“I was hoping you would not say that. Might you do it via communicator so we can stop for lunch. I am famished,” Illya’s stomach growled.

“All right, I could do with something to eat myself as I’m feeling a bit peckish. Better we get something now before the Old Man immediately sends us on a wild goose chase in search of the missing Picasso.”

“I agree…”Illya nodded.”Chinese or Italian?”

“Italian. I’m always hungry an hour after eating Chinese food.”

“Welcome to my world,”Kuryakin chuckled.